nothing gold can stay
by ulstergirl
Summary: Nancy went undercover at a boarding school, taking the place of the instructor she was helping. It wasn't supposed to be a long assignment. She never planned for the charming history professor to come into her life, with his handsome smiles and sweet kisses. (AU, different first meeting)


_**Prompt:** From imagineyourotp on tumblr: Imagine your OTP being teachers at a middle/high school. They're really good friends (with the occasional not-so-subtle flirting) and their students see potential of the them being a thing. Their students drop hints every now and then about how the other is single and there is no time like the present. Finally, during free period one day, Person A asks Person B out, to which they happily say yes. They try to keep their relationship discreet but the students can't help but notice how playful they start acting around each other and how bubbly they've become._

_This is an edited-for-content version; the full version (if you are of legal age) is on AO3._

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><p>Ned glanced away from the stack of history essays he was correcting with a sigh, sliding his wire-rimmed glasses down his nose so he could rub the bridge. He still hadn't decided, and even if he lost his nerve, he could take the trip anyway. The cabin was small and cozy in the online photos, isolated and rustic, away from cellular signal or satellite coverage; it was all knotty pine and quilts and woodsmoke. Just the place to get away from life for a while and work on his novel. If he put his head down, he might be able to finish off the last few chapters before the spring term began.<p>

It felt comforting to tell himself that. It wouldn't be the end of the world if she said no.

He peered through the window at the front of his apartment. His neighbor to the right had twined a few strings of lights around the railing, and they had clicked on in the dusk, halos of cheerful red and blue and green against the blue-white. The weather had threatened snow over the past week, but only a few dustings had fallen. A white Christmas would at least soften the blow for the students who would be staying at the school over the break.

Ned had never thought he would actually enjoy this life, and there were still some days when he thought he might lose his mind, but he couldn't imagine anything else, now. He loved his students, most of the time. He loved teaching. He loved seeing their eyes light up as they understood a concept. He loved seeing their grins of recognition and slapping five with them in the hallways.

He had also fallen hard for the music teacher, and even a week earlier he had felt his heart clench when he walked beside Irden Hall. So many times he had looked up to Lucy's office window, hoping for a glimpse of her. The pain of their breakup had only just begun to fade some at the beginning of the fall semester.

_She_ had started three weeks into the semester, when Mr. Rowland, the chemistry instructor, had left under mysterious circumstances. Rowland hadn't been universally loved, but Ned had still been surprised by his resignation. Miss Drew had come in three days later, and she had taken over his classes; Ned had offered to show her around and help her settle in at Asterlea, but he had seen it behind her eyes. She had come in to help, but she wasn't planning on staying long. Falling for her would only end in grief.

And of course he had, almost immediately. She had an easy, beautiful grin, sharp and sparkling blue eyes, and slightly reddish blonde hair that curled and bounced down to her shoulder blades on the rare occasions she wore it out of her usual ponytail. After some initial skepticism, her students had been eager to come to class, to bring in their suggested experiments. Some of Ned's students took her class right before his, and they came in still bright-eyed and buzzing about her class. She had been _everywhere_, Melissa told Ned, with bright eyes. She knows something about _everything,_ Rob told Ned, shaking his head with begrudging admiration.

Ned hadn't been blind to their matchmaking efforts, their suggestions that he and Miss Drew would make a very cute couple. But he couldn't shake the feeling that she wouldn't be around long.

He had started doubting that when Vice Dean Irving resigned, and Nancy—by then they were on a first-name basis—admitted to Ned that she had found the evidence linking Irving to illegal activity against Rowland. She still hadn't told Ned what it was, but in all honesty he didn't need to know. He suspected that Rowland had started it, but Irving hadn't been all that much better. Irving's smiles had always seemed to hide a watchfulness, a suspicion.

A month after Irving's resignation, Ned had given in and invited Nancy to join a group of teachers going out for a night of bowling. It had been easy, low-stakes, and yet he had felt nervous the whole time. If she said no, if she turned into another Lucy, or if she said _yes_ but didn't feel the same way he did...

Their relationship had begun that night; most of her smiles had been meant for Ned, and she had taken opportunities to joke with him, laugh with him, shove his shoulder when he teased her. They had lingered together after everyone else had departed for the school again, taking a walk just to sober up from all the beer they hadn't really consumed. That was when she told him that she was a detective, when he had been amazed to hear about all she had seen and accomplished, and he had been even more convinced that it would never work. She would feel confined and bored at Asterlea, even if she wasn't now.

But he saw her eyes light up when she talked about her classes, about projects she was planning on doing with them. Maybe she was a detective, but she was a teacher too, even if she didn't know it yet.

Todd Myzrski could take over the chemistry classes, if Nancy didn't stay for the spring. It would be hard, but they would make it through. She had already stayed too long. He had grown too accustomed to her smiles, her jokes, her occasional emails about things she found interesting and thought he might like too. He would need to ration them out, to wean himself off his connection to her. It would be the safest thing to do. It would be the wisest thing to do. They had exchanged kisses, had stayed up talking and laughing together until two o'clock in the morning, and he had begun to almost believe that she returned his feelings. But she would be gone, and soon he would pass out of her memory. She would think of him as another guy she had met on a case, someone who had been helpful and sweet, but someone who couldn't keep up with her life.

It was strange, he thought, to say goodbye to someone before she was gone, to pry his fingers apart from such a tight grasp and let her go. Asking her the question on the tip of his tongue would just drive the knife further; it would make her leaving all the harder, and if he had any sense or reason, he would go alone. She would refuse with a sympathetic smile and a pat of his shoulder. And that would be all.

His cell phone chirped, notifying him of a text message. _Think we'll have time to grab a coffee after the winter formal?_

That would be the brush-off; it made sense. After the winter formal the students would be taking exams, and then the break would begin. Everyone would be exhausted, emotions would be high, and she could slip away, hoping that her students and fellow teachers would begin to forget her over the break.

He wouldn't. He couldn't.

If circumstances had been different... but they weren't.

He looked down at the reservation confirmation he had printed, sighed, and shuffled it under the stack of ungraded essays. It was a dream, all right. And if he didn't ask, even though he knew what her answer would likely be, he would always wonder.

_Sure_, he replied to her message. _Sounds great. :)_

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><p>Nancy sighed as she did one last check of her makeup, her heart skipping a beat. She had checked with a few other teachers and found out they were wearing ridiculous Christmas sweaters and black pants or skirts. The dance was for the students, not the chaperones, and she fell firmly into the latter category for once.<p>

Nancy had split the difference. She wore a black sheath dress with a modest keyhole neckline and black tights with a subtle metallic sheen, sensible pumps—and the requisite Christmas cardigan, red and green striped and decorated with gingerbread men and swirled, knitted lollipops.

_What am I still doing here?_ she asked herself for the hundredth time. _Why can't I make up my mind about this?_

She could pass the exam to actually become a full-fledged, licensed high school chemistry teacher; she had been boning up on it all semester, and chemistry had been one of her favorite subjects. If she stayed for the spring semester—

_If!_ She shook her head at her reflection. Her brow was a little furrowed, her expression anxious. She had absolutely never seen herself as a teacher, and she had taken the job because it provided the perfect cover during her case, and...

And the investigation had been over for months now, and here she was. She had moved from the hotel room in the town nearest the school to Mullins House, one of the girls' dorms, when their house mother had gone on maternity leave. She had told herself it was because they needed the help. She had told herself that leaving halfway through the semester would traumatize an already-traumatized class, who had lost their teacher once already.

She had told herself that Ned Nickerson had _absolutely_ nothing to do with it.

Of course he was incredibly handsome; in her opinion, his wire-rimmed glasses just made him look hotter. He had a square jaw, dark intense eyes, and a dry sense of humor once he warmed up. He was sweet and caring and his kisses made her weak in the knees. She had met dozens of men on cases, and he was just one of them.

But he wasn't, really. She had never met a man who could make her stick around once the case was over, and he hadn't even asked her to; that was the scariest part. Their relationship had been casual, professional, but she had been drawn to him even before he had asked her out that first time. It had begun when her students had started making comments, when even the civics teacher had told her that Mr. Nickerson was nursing a broken heart thanks to the music instructor and could definitely benefit from her attentions.

She could tell, though. When Ned fell, he fell hard, and she would be gone soon. She had been telling herself that for weeks. Kissing him, she knew, would be a bad idea—until it happened, and then it was the best idea she'd had in a long time. She had told him who she truly was, hoping it would serve to create the distance between them that she so desperately needed. Instead, somehow, it had made it even harder for her to stay away from him.

She would be gone.

The dean had asked her to stay on. And she hadn't replied with an immediate, courteous refusal.

She pressed her lips together, touched the small silver hoops dangling from her earlobes, and stood. As careful as she and Ned had been, her students had known that they were seeing each other, and she had been putting off leaving her room to head off some of the teasing. They would ask her why she hadn't dressed up for him, or they would comment on her tights, or the small diamond ring she realized belatedly might not have been the best choice of accessory tonight. _Are you and Mr. Nickerson engaged?_ Any answering blush would be a signal for even more teasing.

The dance was held in the large gymtorium, and no less than five students told her she looked very nice when she was walking over. She smoothed her hair, scanning the room when she walked in, telling herself firmly that she _was not_ looking for Ned. That during her invitation to coffee after, she would do what she had decided and tell him goodbye. She would.

_Just like you'll tell the dean that you really can't accept her generous offer._

The large room was decorated with iridescent white streamers and balloons, and the girls were dressed in silk and satin and chiffon, some of them bashful and giggling behind their hands as they lingered in same-sex groups and cast glances over at the boys. The boys were just as shy, in their own way. Nancy couldn't help smiling. She remembered it all too well.

If she left, she could come back and visit him... but she knew she wouldn't. She would convince herself that he would be happier with someone who had a life similar to his, and she would stop answering his emails, she would be polite and distant on the phone, and he would stop calling. That would be it.

Then she saw him, across the room, and her heart rose. He wore black slacks, a pale-blue shirt and a red tie dotted with white snowflakes. He pushed up his wire rims as he surveyed the room, and her hand rose a few inches, but she made herself relax. He would find his way to her. The students would definitely tease her if she waved Ned over with a wide grin.

_So what? If I'm not coming back..._

He caught sight of her, and she saw his brow clear, saw his face light up with a smile she had only ever seen when he was looking at her. She smiled back at him. Something about Ned had always inspired confidence, and she had felt uncomfortable lying to him about her true purpose at the school during her case. Despite everything else, she would miss him. She would miss their late-night conversations, ordering pizza from the town's only pizza place when they were staying in their offices late to finish up grading, the quick rapport they had developed. He would be a great sounding board during cases.

She shook her head a little, with a small wry smile. She knew better. She had been at Asterlea too long. It was time to move on, to leave him behind.

She was glad for the distraction when Renata, slender and pretty in her simple dark-purple gown, told Nancy that she wanted to major in chemistry in college, thanks to her class. Marshall, who had blown up a few test tubes early on, was interested in molecular gastronomy, and she had allowed him to design an experiment with liquid nitrogen and grapes for his long-term project. Lindsey thanked her for all the after-class one-on-one study sessions that had brought her grade from a low D to a high C; Nancy had a feeling that after her performance on the last test, she just might have a chance at a B.

She wouldn't only miss Ned, she thought as she walked over to the refreshments table. She would miss this place. She had never been anywhere else this long, other than River Heights. Early on Bess and George had teased her about becoming a teacher, but now they only asked when she would be coming home.

"Punch, Miss Drew?"

She recognized his voice, but it was more than that. She recognized the _sensation_ of him, his proximity, like some kind of sixth sense. "Yes, please," she told Ned, and his fingertips brushed her elbow as he guided her to the table with him.

After that, they stuck together, and she didn't question it. It was nice to be with him, and while she saw the knowing glances the students shot them, she didn't care. She found that she kept thinking the same thing: _Savor it, because after tonight, he won't want to see you anymore._ Her laughter went on a little too long, and the light in his dark eyes seemed brighter when she looked up into his handsome face.

If their lives had been different... oh, if the circumstances had been different. If only.

The dance was scheduled to end at ten o'clock, and the teachers were supposed to help with clean-up. At nine-thirty Nancy caught herself thinking that maybe she shouldn't make it tonight; maybe she could invite Ned to lunch the following day, to make their conversation the last she had before leaving Asterlea. To just keep tonight perfect, unbroken, so she could hold the ache of tears in her throat and locked behind her breastbone until she had boarded the flight home.

Ned had just returned from one of the rounds to make sure no students were engaging in any inappropriate behavior in the shadows or hallways near the gym, and she smiled when she saw him walk back in, pushing his glasses up. "Everything okay?"

He nodded. Then he tipped his head up as the overzealous student disk jockey announced a slow song, one Nancy remembered from when _she_ was in high school. "An oldie but goodie that our favorite history teacher and chemistry teacher might like," Miguel said cajolingly, and Nancy and Ned couldn't help chuckling.

He extended his hand to her. "Want to?"

She hesitated for a moment, then smiled and took his hand. "Sure."

It was the first time they had ever danced together, and she thought fleetingly of missed opportunities, of times it had been just the two of them in his office or hers—not that either held enough space to dance. She imagined him, for those few aching seconds, as her date to weddings, Christmas parties, evenings out with her friends; she imagined this as the first in a long series of dances they would have together, instead of the only one they would share.

"This is an awful song."

Despite her churning stomach and sinking heart, she smiled at him. He was a great dancer. "Beggars can't be choosers," she pointed out. "Guess we have to take what we're given."

"Yeah." His grin became a smile, and she didn't know if it looked bittersweet because she was projecting her own sadness onto him. She could sense the knowing grins of the students around them, could hear the faintest echoes of their chuckles, but she couldn't look away from Ned's eyes. "It would be pretty ungrateful of me to wish it was something fitting."

She smiled. "Like what?"

He shook his head, and when his fingertips brushed the small of her back, she forgot to breathe for a second. "'Wonderful Tonight,'" he finally murmured, almost reluctantly.

She blushed like a schoolgirl, and ducked her head. "Good song," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral. "So not 'Macarena,' then?"

"Or 'Wonderwall,'" Ned countered with a chuckle. "So these kids who were barely thought of when it came out can pull out their acoustics and impress their girlfriends."

Nancy had to grin. "As long as it's not 'Baby, It's Cold Outside.'"

"Ahh, the date-rape anthem," Ned said, moving in a half turn, and she moved with him easily. "No, definitely not that. But if we're sticking to seasonal, maybe 'Blue Christmas.'"

She couldn't look away from his eyes, then. So he knew, and her determination wavered. She couldn't do it, she just couldn't... but there was no alternative. Either choice would hurt.

She thanked him for the dance once it was over, and she could still feel the warmth of his fingertips against her skin for five minutes after. All too soon the lights had gone up and the last few students were leaving, in pairs and groups, moving slowly in unfamiliar and uncomfortable heels, perfectly curled hair falling in loose waves, jackets off and thrown over shoulders, shirts untucked. They looked weary but happy. Their last tests had been taken, their last essays submitted. For them, the hard part was over.

She had been at Asterlea too long. This was supposed to be easy.

"Go on," Marcie Long told them, shooing them away once Nancy and Ned had cleared off the refreshment table. "Go enjoy the rest of the night. We'll finish up here."

Everyone knew, it seemed. And in the spring, when Ned returned and Nancy didn't, they would think that she was Lucy all over again, that she had jilted him and gone away instead of staying around to break his heart with every missed glance. She wouldn't be around to feel it...

But she still would, back at home. She knew that. She wouldn't forget for a long time, and maybe she would pray to, but she couldn't forget the way it had felt to dance with him or laugh with him.

She suggested that they drive separately to the diner, and he agreed. It would just be unbearable to ride in his passenger seat afterward, neither of them speaking, or trying to make stilted conversation. She left her cardigan in the car and wore her wool peacoat instead, and she kept swallowing the lump of tears in her throat.

The diner was in town, and so they waved to a few of the regulars and a table of English teachers before they placed their orders for coffee. The diner's only concession to the fast-approaching holiday was eggnog on the drink menu, and green spearmints along with the red peppermints with the checks. No pumpkin-spice blends or peppermint mochas for them.

Even though they were four tables away from anyone else they knew, Ned lowered his voice a little as he said, "I meant what I said. You do look beautiful tonight."

"Thanks. You look pretty handsome too, Mr. Nickerson."

He smiled. "I'll remember tonight for a long time," he told her, and that ache in her throat deepened for a moment.

"I will too," she said, once she could speak again. "Ned... have you ever thought about... doing something else?"

His smile became a brief grin. "When I was in high school, I was going to be the next big American novelist. It fascinated me, creating all these lives, their stories... and then I got really into history. I loved everything. This?" He made an encompassing gesture. "This was a means to an end... and then I fell in love with it. The way you probably did, a few months ago."

"So you do love it."

"Yeah." He nodded. "I mean, not all of it. Some days I wonder if it's worth it. When I grade an exam and a student scores a thirty-two. When it's eight o'clock in the morning and no one's talking in class. When I have a hundred essays to grade and I find that five of them are obviously copied and pasted from the A&E website. It's hard then. But everything else... that makes it worthwhile."

She studied his face, her chin propped on her hand. "I believe you," she murmured.

"It's not your first love either. But maybe it's your second?"

She gave him a small smile. "Maybe," she admitted. "I never would have guessed it, honestly. I thought I would hate that part. But it's... like you said, on the days it works? It _works_."

He nodded. "So... in the spring," he murmured, and then he looked into her eyes.

It was her perfect opportunity. But when her lips parted, she didn't have the strength to say it. "In the spring it starts all over again," she forced out, past the lump in her throat, with a smile. "How do you stand it?"

He studied her eyes for a moment, and then he smiled. "Every time it's like starting over," he told her. "A fresh beginning and a new start. A new chance to make it right."

"But your students—they're always gushing about your class," she told him. "They adore you. What would you need to change?"

He shrugged. "It's never perfect," he told her. "Teaching it the same way over and over is boring. Planning games and activities... making it exciting for them. I haven't ever been able to find a second chaperone for a trip to the state history museum, but I'm still hoping I will. Maybe one day."

She couldn't let the night end on a sour note. She just couldn't. She watched him idly touch the breast of his jacket, like he had put something important in that pocket, and her heart jumped.

They lingered over coffee until the other teachers were gone, until Ned gave in to temptation and ordered a plate of hash browns. "You're in love with being a detective, aren't you," he commented, almost offhand.

She nodded and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah," she admitted. "I... I feel like I've been off the map for the past few months. It's strange."

"It must be. Asterlea has never been a hotbed of criminal activity."

"I'd hope to have discovered it by now, if it were." She smiled. "But it's nice here. I can see why you like it so much."

He shrugged a little. "And I do, I really do. The good thing about teaching, though, is I can move without a ton of hassle. History is history, after all. And I have the summers off to work on writing."

She smiled. She had smiled so much that her cheeks felt almost sore. "And travel."

"On this salary?" He gave her that heart-stopping slow grin. "I wish. I traveled when I was in college, but that was thanks to my parents."

"I know how that is."

Soon after, she began to think of all she needed to do, to prepare for the next day: the plane ticket, packing, informing the dean of her decision. A final goodbye to Ned, quick, to keep from drawing the pain of it out more than it needed to be. She would miss him; there was nothing wrong with that.

He signaled for the check and when the waitress delivered it, he pulled out his wallet, waving off Nancy's objections. He counted out enough cash to cover it and the tip, and Nancy reached for her purse, and her stomach flipped.

Then Ned reached across the table and touched her hand. He pulled a folded sheet of paper out of the pocket he had tapped earlier, idly.

"I... you can say no," he said, and she couldn't look away from his eyes. "Um... before I head back to my parents' place for Christmas, I've rented a cabin not too far away. It's nothing special; it's kind of plain, actually. And I..."

He trailed off, and Nancy was pretty sure her heart had stopped. Ned looked down and she followed his gaze; she managed to fumble the folded sheet open one-handed and looked down at it. She saw the reservation, the image of the cabin's interior, and she knew what it meant.

"It looks lovely," she heard herself saying, and his smile was tentative.

"Would you like to come with me?" he asked softly.

She swallowed. His hand was still touching hers.

_I'm sorry..._

"Yeah," she whispered, and his smile was no longer tentative. "I'd like that."

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><p>They arrived just as the sun was setting. Ned was tired; he hadn't been able to sleep well the night before, once Nancy had agreed to accompany him. He hadn't been able to relax. How could he? She had said yes.<p>

Maybe it was to say goodbye, maybe he misunderstood, maybe it didn't mean what he thought it did. He was afraid to hope, but he couldn't stop. Even if she claimed the bed and he slept on the couch, though, he would be glad of the time with her.

The snow began in earnest during the last leg of their journey. Huge white flakes drifted on the wind, blowing against the windshield, and the car's heater labored against the freezing world outside. Ned peered into the blinding white, navigating as best he could, and very nearly drove past the road to the cabins.

The cabin would have looked charming anyway, but in the snow, it looked like the very definition of Christmas. They bundled into hats and scarves and gloves, zipping their insulated jackets up to their chins, and laughed at each other before they hurried out to the trunk and then inside.

He was entirely out of his depth. But he had said yes, and no matter what... he already knew what his next book was going to be, once the pain had subsided enough. The main character was a beautiful accomplished detective, and he would look back on this time with her as research, and it would be with fondness, not bitterness. He would portray her as she was, not the way he wished she was.

He wanted her to stay. He knew she wouldn't. He _knew_.

They cranked up the heat in the cabin and took a trip to town for supplies; by the time they made it back, the cabin was barely warm. He built a fire and they huddled near it, and neither one of them said anything. Ned was sure that when he volunteered to sleep on the couch, she wouldn't stop him.

He was sure, when he was looking away from him. Then their eyes met and she gave him a grin or a smile, and he doubted all of it. He started to hope again.

But he didn't know what he was hoping for. He had overheard the dean that morning, when he checked in and let them know he would be incommunicado for a few days. Nancy still hadn't given her answer, and he took that as a bad sign, because if she loved it, if she wanted to stay, she would have known already. She was just trying to come up with a nice way to say it.

That night, after a simple dinner of soup and French bread, he found himself yawning early. They sat on the couch together, watching one of the movies in the cabin's extensive collection; she was resting against his side, and neither of them was speaking, but he didn't know what to ask, or how to say it. Their silence was peaceful, and he didn't want to break it. Maybe tomorrow he would find the strength to do it. He would lock her into his memory this way; he would see her as she was tonight, her skin golden and eyes glowing from the firelight, sipping a mug of hot cocoa, a quilt spread across both their laps.

He hadn't even known her for six months yet, but somehow he felt like a part of his heart had been hollowed out in the shape of her. He would ache for want of her, once she was gone. But he couldn't release his hold, not the way he had wanted. Instead he just wanted to hold her tighter.

She was smiling when he glanced over at her. "Big day, huh," she said softly, and her gaze flicked for just an instant from his eyes to his lips. He told himself that it didn't mean anything, not really; he couldn't assume she had come with him as anything other than a friend.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Didn't sleep too well last night."

"I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, and before he could say anything else, she was throwing the quilt back. "So I'll... get ready for bed, okay?"

He nodded, but she barely looked in his direction to see it. "Okay," he said. So she would claim the bathroom and bedroom first. They would solve the problem of where he was sleeping once she was finished.

Once she was in the bedroom, though, he felt too nervous to stay still. He rose and found his toothbrush, brushing his teeth over the kitchen sink; he found a spare pillow in a cupboard, and a spare quilt too, and looked for the flannel pants he planned on wearing to bed. He had learned a long time ago to plan for the worst and hope for the best; it had saved him during lectures more times than he could count.

"Ned?"

He glanced up from his suitcase, toward the closed bedroom door and the muffled sound of her voice. "Hmm?"

"Can—can you come here? I need your help with something."

His heart was beating a little harder when he took another step, but she opened the bedroom door before he reached it. She wore a fluffy, plush robe, and her hair tumbled loose over her shoulders. She looked beautiful.

"It's... it's so cold in here." She bit her lip and glanced down, and his gaze fell to the sash of her robe, where her hands rested. She slowly untied it. "Want to help me warm up?"

His mouth went dry as she opened the robe. Underneath she wore a beautiful emerald-green slip trimmed in cream-colored lace. Her long, shapely legs were bare.

His eyebrows went up. "Nan," he breathed, and with effort his gaze rose to her face again. He could see the nervousness in her otherwise breathtaking smile. "You're so, so beautiful."

He closed the distance between them and slid his arms around her, under her robe. She tipped her chin up to gaze into his eyes, then reached up and slid his reading glasses off. "And you are so handsome," she murmured. "So incredibly handsome, Ned."

He turned his head and kissed her palm. "Is this what you want?" he murmured.

She searched his eyes. "Is it what you want?"

Her palms were cupping his cheeks as he leaned in and touched his forehead to hers. "Yes," he sighed, and for that next heartbeat they swayed together, his eyes closing. "More than anything, oh, Nancy..."

And her lips were parted when his mouth touched hers, and he was undone.

* * *

><p>She had never done anything like this with any of the men she had met during her cases. But she had never met anyone like him during any of her cases; she had never spent this much time getting to know and—and fall for one of them so thoroughly as she had for him. And she had. There was no point in denying it, not to herself, not anymore.<p>

His kiss was both familiar and exhilarating, and it sent a shudder down her spine, leaving her knees weak. His tongue slid against hers and she slid her palms down so she could grip his shoulders; a wave of heat left her flushed, and when he stepped in close, until his body was nearly pressed against hers, she heard a quiet throaty moan and realized she was the one making it.

It was too much, and she was afraid of what would happen to her if she _didn't_ let this happen, if she didn't give in. She had fought it until she couldn't anymore. His invitation had been the last straw, and his sweet uncertainty, his unwillingness to make a move without a sign from her... she had been charmed by it.

She was on fire for him now.

"Couch or bed?" he murmured, and she couldn't help shivering at the sizzling bolt of arousal she felt when he slipped his palm under the hem of her slip and ran it up to cup her hip. He nuzzled against her earlobe and she closed her eyes.

"Couch," she murmured, and couldn't help grinning. "The bedroom is _freezing._"

He smiled against her skin. "Thought you wanted me to warm you up, beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low growl, and she shivered again. "C'mere, then."

And she couldn't help chuckling when he boosted her in his arms and carried her. It only took him a few steps, but she took the opportunity to nuzzle against him, to inhale the scent of his cologne, the trace of sweat, the faintly herbal scent of his shampoo. She kissed the point of his jaw, his neck, where his neck met his shoulder, and he growled or hummed in pleasure; she felt it as a rumbling in his chest, pressed against her.

He sat down on the couch and she cupped his cheeks again, gazing into his dark eyes, watching the reflected firelight dance in them. The movie was still playing, but she couldn't care less. She traced his upper lip with her thumb, then kissed the tip of his nose.

"I don't want to stop kissing you," she whispered, and her stomach lurched as she realized it was true.

He smiled. "Then don't," he whispered, and tilted his head, sliding his hand under her gown again to stroke his thumb against the small of her back.

She kissed him, deeply, her lashes fluttering down, and he leaned back, and she rested her weight against him, burying her fingers in his thick, dark hair. Their kisses had been mere preludes, before; every time, they had broken off their makeout sessions with murmured excuses about getting home, about the lateness of the hour. She hadn't wanted to lead him on this way, knowing that they couldn't really have a relationship in the time left to them.

And yet. And yet.

"God," he sighed. "I have to be dreaming."

She smiled. "I'd much rather be awake," she murmured. "Even in my dreams it wouldn't feel this good."

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. "Have you dreamed about this?"

"Not really. Too afraid to let myself."

The smile that turned up the corners of his mouth was a little bittersweet. "I know what you mean," he murmured, and then he drew her to him for another kiss.

For so, so long, she had believed that this would be a mistake. Even when she had spotted the nightgown and picked it up, she had told herself that it wasn't for him. Because there were no words for how she felt about him. The closest one was _longing_. She saw his serenity, heard his easy laugh, and she just wanted to wrap it around her, to hold it close forever. To let him get to her like this... well, they could be no closer than they were about to be.

It had never been like this. It had never felt like this.

When she was close to him, gazing into his dark eyes, her fear and misgivings couldn't have been further from her thoughts. She didn't think about what would happen in a few days, or how much it would hurt to let him go. She only knew the almost painful joy of being in his arms, his embrace, the exhilaration that bubbled up in her when he nuzzled against her skin.

All their time had been stolen; even this was stolen. The sand left in the hourglass was dwindling, but she wanted to sift every single grain between her fingers before it was all gone.

Afterward, he was still trembling as he lowered himself to her, and she wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes. "Nan," he whispered, and her heart beat harder in response. "Oh, Nancy..."

"Yeah," she whispered. "I know."

* * *

><p>Over the following days, the rest of their trip, they built snowmen and made snow angels, and took long walks on the nearby scenic paths. They made love every morning and every night, and he felt himself beginning to imagine what he knew could never be.<p>

They slept in each other's arms, and once she was asleep he stroked her hair from her flushed cheek and wondered if she dreamed what he did, if she felt the same grief. Now that he had seen what they could have, losing her would feel even worse.

A clean break would be best, but this was no simple tree branch. This felt like breaking his own arm, his ribs. He had thought it wouldn't feel this way, but he had been lost from the start. He knew that now.

On their last morning together, he woke to see her studying his face. She gave him a small, unguarded smile, and he returned it. So it was about to happen.

He could never have enough of her. Loving her so much only made this worse, and it was love; they sighed it into each other's skin, drew it in sweat-damped trails like morse code, and when he held her it was like basking in the only warmth he had known, after a lifetime of ice.

He couldn't willingly let her go, but he couldn't do anything else. It was her choice, and she already knew how little he could offer her.

"Back home?" she murmured.

He nodded. "Tomorrow," he said. "Back at school on the fifth. Hard to believe."

"Yeah." She sighed and brushed a loose lock of hair from his forehead. "I have to go home too."

She didn't say it, and he couldn't ask. He just cupped her cheek and touched his forehead to hers, and she closed her eyes. "Just a few more minutes," he murmured, and she wrapped her arms around him and sniffled.

They made love one last time, slow and sweet, and he couldn't look away from her eyes. She was the love of his life; he had no doubt about it, none at all. His life had been meant to intersect with hers, and if this was all they would have, he wouldn't waste a second of it. He gave her all of him, and he _knew_ her, as their bodies moved together, as she moaned his name. Her heart was breaking too.

They packed slowly and returned to the school so she could pick up the rest of her belongings. He drove her to the airport, his heart sick the entire time, but he couldn't give up those last few moments, no matter how they hurt.

At the airport he helped her with her luggage; when she finally looked up at him, her blue eyes were swimming. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice husky with tears.

He reached for her and pulled her into his arms in a hard hug, and she released a choked sob. "I don't want to let you go," he whispered. "Please don't make me let you go."

"Ned," she choked out, holding him just as tightly as he was holding her. "Oh... oh my God, I'm going to miss you so much."

"I love you." He said it almost under his breath, his lips against her earlobe.

"I love you," she sighed, and she sounded so tired, so defeated.

Her lips brushed his cheek and then he was kissing her, hard, and he could feel it slipping away from him. He could feel the loss of her, and it stabbed through him, straight to his heart.

Her lips were swelled from his kiss when they parted, slowly, her cheeks wet with tears. His face was wet too. He never, _never_ wanted to let her go. He wanted to beg her to return to the car with him, to go back to Asterlea, back to the cabin. For that span of days, their life had been only each other.

_Nothing gold can stay_. As sad as she was now, he never wanted to see what they had turn bitter. And he would remember her like this, heartbroken and fully in love with him. For a moment, he had held her. For a moment, they had belonged to each other.

She sniffled and searched his eyes. "This can't be the end," she whispered. "It can't."

He just gazed at her, afraid to say anything, to break the moment, to hope.

"If you..." She swallowed. "Can I see you again?"

He nodded. "Anytime, Nan," he told her. "You know where I am, and they'd love to see you. _I'd_ love to see you."

She nodded slowly and sniffled again. "It might be a while," she murmured.

His heart sank, but he hid it with a smile. "You're worth the wait."

* * *

><p>He had forgotten her. She knew he had.<p>

It had been the most incredible time of her life. She had never known anyone like him; she had dreamed of him almost every night, had grieved the loss of him. It had been a long time since she had cried herself to sleep over anyone, but she had cried herself to sleep over him.

His emails had been almost constant, at first. As the semester went on, she felt him slipping away from her. He was busy and so was she. Her life was so different, now... but she felt herself turning to him, only to find that he wasn't there.

She wanted him in her life. She wanted him so much she ached with it, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't take him from what he loved.

When she returned to Asterlea late in the spring, she expected to dread it, but it somehow felt like coming home. It wasn't just because she was coming to see him. She saw the students, the other teachers, and she knew she could walk back into this life again, pick it up like a discarded coat and slip into it again.

She had loved it, and she had loved him, and that hadn't changed.

She wore a lovely blue dress that made her feel comfortable and pretty, and checked his schedule; she sat in the visitor's chair beside his closed office door for the thirty minutes until his arrival and tried to keep her mind blank, but she just couldn't. She had thought about it so, so many times; she had seen this in her mind so many times, and she was terrified that she was wrong.

It had been perfect. It had been beautiful, the spark that had burst into flame between them. But maybe it was through.

Ned was carrying his messenger bag, flipping through it, when she saw him walking up the hall; she was too nervous to remain seated, so she stood, and Ned glanced up. When he stopped short, her heart was in her throat, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

Then a wide grin spread across his face, and he closed the distance between them with long, rapid strides. She couldn't help grinning too, and when he opened his arms she willingly walked into them.

"I can't believe you're here—we've been so busy, and I..."

"I know." She closed her eyes and took a long pleased breath, and at the familiar scent of him she felt like she could weep. "End of the semester and everything."

"Yeah." He was still grinning as he pulled back to look into her face. "You look incredible."

"So do you, Nickerson." She patted his cheek. "Missed me?"

He glanced around the hallway; she was unsurprised when he pulled out the key to his office, and she was unsurprised at the smirks on the faces of some of the students she recognized. As soon as they were in his office he had her pinned against the wall, her fingers in his hair as she tipped her chin back for his kiss.

"Every single damn day," he gasped against her lips. "Every single day."

She sniffled and smiled. "Think Myzrski would be willing to give me a few classes?"

He touched her cheek. "Don't tease me, Drew."

"I'm not." She released a trembling breath. "I can stay here with you... and in the summers, you could come with me. Play Watson to my Holmes. Maybe?"

Her heart was in her throat as she searched his eyes. Maybe he would think she was joking. She hoped not.

"You mean it?"

She nodded. "Every word."

He took a deep breath. "Take me with you," he murmured. "I'm no good without you. I need you, Nan. And I almost had myself convinced I'd never see you again."

She gave him a half-smile. "Sorry to disappoint you."

He shook his head vigorously. "No. You... there are no words..."

She smiled fully. "So I've reduced the novelist to speechlessness," she teased him gently, stroking his cheek. "Maybe I'm no good for you after all."

He growled under his breath. "I think it's your turn, Drew," he told her, and she moaned quietly when his lips touched hers again.

There were no words. He had that right. But when they were like this, there didn't have to be.


End file.
